


Silence, please

by Manyllines



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Ohhh boy this is a roller coster of sad, Self-Esteem Issues, Some of the thoughts are a little bit more specific than others, Suicidal Thoughts, i'm giving this character all the sad he doesn't deserve, vent fic, ya another one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manyllines/pseuds/Manyllines
Summary: Maybe a shower will finally let his tormented mind rest.That's all he asks nothing more
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Silence, please

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm really just gonna say here what suicidal thoughts sixty has:  
> bashing his head on the sink, cutting his wrists (more euphamized he doesn't say it this way), also some metions of guns
> 
> So yeah if u don't want to read be my guest. This is a vent fic. But if u do read  
> You have been warned

You know for someone who hates this room so much, sixty does spend a lot of time in the bathroom.

He stands at the entryway, staring straight through the little window at the end of the, you can barely call it a room, closet that is his bathroom. Eyes clouded and devoid of much, he’s covered in grime and dirt and other questionable fluids, his shoulders rise and fall slowly with his breathing.

He gets some focus back to himself when he hears a noise coming from outside of his tiny studio. He glances at a snail pace at the little bathtub he owns, too big for the claustrophobic room.

He exhales.

Yeah a bath probably sounds good at the moment.

Entering and closing the door behind himself, he drops his helmet on the floor, he pays it no mind. Let his equipment and clothes pool at his feet he turns on the water and gets in.

His legs shake, so he sits down.

Or maybe, maybe he should stay up, let himself keel over and hit his head at the edge of the sink. Finishing what the bullet wasn’t powerful enough to finish.

He exhales shakily.

He stares at the faucet as it pours water right on his crossed legs, a normal person would be uncomfortable at the position since he’s too big to seat like this. But he likes it. Likes the feeling of being squished, even if it’s by the hard material of the tub.

It feels like a hug.

He swallows.

He cups his hand under the tap, capturing the water in them so he can wet his hair. The water turns a murky brown color, he doesn't even pay attention to it as his eyes trail over the tiny veins of water that drip down from his left forearm to his wrist. He stares at it

He would normally cringe at the thought that passes through his head.

Normally yeah but he doesn’t. Today it’s hard to.

‘Do androids bleed?’ is the first thing that comes, then ‘If it cuts will it bleed?’ Would it? Would it also hurt?

He normally does not let his mind wonder like this. Normally he stays by things that look accidental, that would end it easier you know?

His throat closes up.

He looks away from...there and hides his hands between his legs.

He rests his head on the faucet, watching as the water runs down with power, down the drain.

It helps.

It drowns the sound of his sobs, hides the tears that fall mutedly of his eyes down his chin, down the drain.

He’s cold from the water that’s scalding.

Alone in the middle of the crowd that are his thoughts.

He just wants to feel right. Can he not feel like this for one day? One week? A month…?

He was happy hours ago, laughing even, enjoying his time, being alive.

He doesn’t feel like that anymore.

He looks at the pile of clothes and equipment he left scattered on the floor. The thing his mind thinks of, it’s there somewhere, he chokes hard on his sob.

He was never a silent crier, people just didn’t hear him.

He runs a hand through his face, trying to collect the tears, trying to collect… him

Rest, he wants rest from his mind, but not like that. Not like that he tells himself.

Because what would happen to those around him?

It’s selfish.

Imagine how they would feel!? His mind screams at him.

He keeps staring at the pile numbly.

There’s.... advice, written somewhere, that says that when humans feel ~~depressed~~ down, talking with another human companion helps immensely.

His mind laughs bitterly at him.

You’re an android. You have no friends. You have no one. _She_ left you. _They_ left you. _They_ don’t need you.

‘ _They_ don’t need me, but I still think of how _they_ would feel if I was gone?’

Yes, yes because if you don’t then you're being selfish.

He turns the water off, watches as the grime ~~and tears~~ fall down the drain, to be forgotten by everyone but him. Sadly, he never forgets.

His body stays unwashed but who cares. No one does.

Getting up his arms tremble under his weight, he dresses up the t-shirt he left there that morning without drying himself, there’s no need to do that. He can’t get sick.

Rest, yes he needs rest. Maybe not from his mind, that one is hard to still. But he can at least rest his body.

He leaves the bathroom in a trace, eyes still clouded and devoid of much, tears still running silently down his face.

The door closes behind himself quietly, only the click of the lock is heard.

In the bathroom still stays the edge of the sink, the droplets that ran down his wrists.

And his gun.

**Author's Note:**

> If you reached the end thank you for reading  
> Really not felling well right now and i do apologize for only posting ya know, sad.
> 
> Please take care of your selfs and your mental health, don't be like sixty.  
> Take care!


End file.
